Chapter 39

‘There must be a story.’

Hugo pretended not to notice Baron Dictron’s melancholy.

He wanted to help Catherine, so he tried hard to act friendly, but he didn’t want to be tactless enough to pry into personal matters.

“Do I really have to get married?”

After exhaling cigar smoke several times, Baron Dictron finally spoke when Hugo cut off the end of his cigar, intending to stop smoking.

“Just as trees bloom and bear fruit when the time comes, it’s the way of nature.”

“I see. Then am I someone who goes against nature? Is it my problem?”

Was Baron Dictron a philosophical person? 

Hugo pondered what the best answer would be and simply adjusted his posture.

For reticent people, it’s hard to get them to open up, but once they do, they often speak freely.

So Baron Dictron would also speak if he waited. His thoughts, his worries.

“More than anything, I think these kinds of meetings are not right.”

“What kind?”

“Doesn’t it feel like a race? Whether it’s a concert or a party. Rushing toward a goal, all for a single purpose. I just can’t understand it.”

‘He’s the type who dreams of romantic love.’

Hugo rested his elbow on the sofa armrest.

“I used to find these meetings meaningful. But at some point, I became skeptical. I couldn’t tell if the smiles directed at me were for me or for my title.”

Hmm, Hugo stroked his chin.

Baron Dictron continued with a faint smile.

“I feel like a product displayed on a shelf. The ladies haggle over me.”

Isn’t it usually the other way around?

Hugo became curious about what made Baron Dictron think this way.

“Was there a special reason that made you think that way?”

There is, a special reason. But Baron Dictron wasn’t sure if he should say it. It would also be criticizing his own mother.

So Baron Dictron held back his words. Instead, he cut off the end of his cigar too.

“Isn’t your fiancée waiting, Duke?”

If they talked a little more, he might have something to tell Catherine.

Hugo hid his disappointment and stood up first.

“My fiancée isn’t the only one waiting.”

However, when they returned to the ballroom, no one was waiting for them.

Neither Catherine nor the residents of Catherine House. And not even Brian.

***

“Sniff, sob.”

The people of Catherine House, who had returned from the party, did not go straight to their bedrooms but gathered in the drawing room.

Sobs leaked out from among them.

“How, sob, am I so, sniff, unattractive, Catherine?”

Riena was crying, surrounded by Catherine, Brooke, and Lillie.

While Catherine was dancing with Hugo, Riena had been rejected by Baron Dictron.

“Riena, you’re not unattractive! It’s just that he didn’t discover your charm.”

Catherine sincerely comforted Riena.

“That man was no good, Riena. Any man who bluntly rejects a woman’s confession is impolite. Forget about him, Riena. There are plenty of men in the world.”

Brooke gave very practical advice.

“I think the confession was too hasty, Riena. How about trying to talk to him again next time?”

“He said he doesn’t plan to attend any parties for a while. Sob, that means I can’t meet him. Sniff.”

Riena shook her head at Lillie’s consolation.

“Don’t worry about that, Riena. Who says you can only meet at parties?”

“What? Catherine?”

Riena wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Then how do I meet him? Isn’t it impossible unless Baron Dictron comes to see me?”

“Think about why you came to Catherine House. It’s because I’m here.”

“Catherine, are you planning to drag Baron Dictron to a party?”

Lillie widened her eyes.

Considering Catherine’s decisiveness in swiftly getting engaged to her ex-husband to escape a crisis, it was possible.

And Catherine’s reputation would plummet.

Lillie wanted to prevent Catherine’s honor from falling into disgrace.

“Of course not. But there are many ways. It might take some effort. And time.”

Catherine smiled confidently. So, the three women decided to trust Catherine.

After all, there was no other way to comfort Riena.

***

Hugo was, as always, with Catherine today. And for the first time in a while, Hugo was surprised by Catherine’s unpredictable actions.

“Catherine, do we really have to dig the ground?”

“You said he’s skeptical about meeting at parties. You advised that he needs a fateful encounter, Hugo.”

The person who valued fateful encounters was none other than Baron Dictron.

Having had an in-depth conversation with Baron Dictron at the last party, Hugo used it as an excuse to visit Catherine.

He used Baron Dictron’s story as an excuse to have lunch at a famous restaurant.

For Hugo, it was a date; for Catherine, it was gathering information. The lunch was very nice.

Hugo was thrilled about their first date after getting engaged and had scouted a famous tea house in the city for the next schedule.

But his plan was, as always, disrupted.

Catherine had led Hugo to Lavender Lake.

When Catherine suggested a walk to Lavender Lake, Hugo thought she wanted to enjoy a cozy stroll with him.

But upon arriving at Lavender Lake, she took out a small shovel from the carriage and started digging the ground.

“Does digging the ground create fate?”

“Hugo, do you like the word fate?”

Hugo was bewildered by Catherine’s bright-eyed digging.

Fortunately, there were no people around, or they would surely find it strange.

“Well, I’ve liked it at times, and disliked it at others. Let’s say it depends on the situation.”

“Hmm, I don’t particularly like it.”

“May I ask why?”

Catherine smiled satisfactorily at the hole she had dug.

“Because you can create it.”

Hugo tilted his head. Sometimes Catherine said things that were hard to understand. It frustrated Hugo, but he let it go.

Catherine wouldn’t answer even if asked, and often her intentions would become clear naturally if he watched.

This time would be the same.

“Hugo. Shall we create our fate?”

“Feels like I’m becoming a God.”

“Blasphemy is not allowed.”

Catherine scolded Hugo playfully, smiling.

Then Catherine returned to the carriage they had come in and talked to the coachman.

A while later, Hugo saw the coachman driving the carriage away and scratched his forehead.

“Are we abandoned?”

“No. He’ll come back. But not alone.”

Catherine predicted the arrival of an uninvited guest.

Fate and an uninvited guest, Hugo had no idea what was going to happen.

***

“Ah!”

What are the odds of stepping into a hole that suddenly appeared on a path you walk every day, not once but three times?

Baron Dictron sat down, clutching his ankle and stifling a groan.

“Did a group of moles migrate here or what!”

He gritted his teeth, recalling the holes scattered along his walk.

“Ouch.”

And as he twisted his ankle for the third time, he let out a sound.

A sharp pain shot up his ankle to his head.

He had sprained his ankle badly. Baron Dictron looked back at the path he had walked.

To get back home, he had to walk at least 1 km. It would be a blink of an eye with a sound leg, but a long distance with a sprained one.

Baron Dictron looked around. He was searching for someone to ask for help. Naturally, there was no one.

This path was a private walking route known only to Baron Dictron, rarely encountering anyone unless it was someone lost like Riena.

“Ha, this is maddening.”

Baron Dictron looked up at the sky in despair and pulled his foot out of the hole.

Even without moving his ankle, he felt a throbbing pain.

He spotted a long stick nearby.

Baron Dictron clenched and unclenched his fist, reaching out his hand. He needed to use the stick as a cane to get back home somehow.

But no matter how much he reached, the stick remained out of his grasp. Baron Dictron almost lay on the ground to reach it.

At that moment, he heard the rustling sound of fabric brushing against itself near his ear.

Baron Dictron raised his head in delight.

“……!”

The person entering the narrow path was none other than Riena.

The very Riena he had coldly rejected a few days ago, deeply wounding her pride!

Baron Dictron was surprised, and so was Riena.

“B-Baron? Isn’t it too late for a nap?”

Riena asked and immediately scolded herself.

‘What am I saying!’

“I’m sorry, Baron. I was just startled.”

“It’s alright, Lady Riena. And right now, I think I’d be happy to hear anything from you. Could you please pick up that stick for me?”

“Of course, Baron!”

Riena almost ran over. Fortunately, she didn’t fall into a hole.

She picked up the stick and handed it to Baron Dictron.